


Hard Landings

by CKBookish



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics)
Genre: Broken Bones, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Characters do be growing, Damian Wayne Gets a Hug, Damian Wayne Needs a Hug, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson is a Good Brother, Dinosaur incident, Editing? I don't know her, Forgiveness, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'm to tired to know what else to tag, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Tim Drake is a Good Brother, Whump, falling, injuries, well sort of... hugging is a bit hard when you are injured but there are cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 20:15:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29213280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CKBookish/pseuds/CKBookish
Summary: Damian stood at the top of the dinosaur, biting his tongue as he worked to pull the dust cloth through the links of the chain keeping the top heavy robot from falling forward.  He grunted as the cloth stuck in the links for the fifth time since he had started the horrid task of dusting.  Alfred was mad at him, and so Damian was stuck cleaning the cave from top to bottom.Damian felt the butler was overreacting,  it wasn’t as if he had actually put the itching powder in Drake’s suit.  He had only planned on doing it.  Father hadn’t thought it funny either.  Richard would have at least snorted.  Damian thought he would anyway.  Todd had told him of a long prank war between him and Richard that lasted nearly a month when Todd was Robin.  It had only ended after both the Batsuit and the Batmobile were pepto bismol pink.Damian sighed.  He didn’t understand.  He thought it would have been funny.  Evidently, he couldn’t even prank correctly.
Relationships: Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, damian wayne and tim drake
Comments: 76
Kudos: 363





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Jinmukang](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jinmukang/gifts).



> Sooooo.... you know why you get this. But I will keep it a secret. All my love, darling!!!
> 
> As always, readers, I love to hear from you!

Maybe it’s not that I need you to catch me, every time

Maybe I just need you to pick me up after.

* * *

Damian stood at the top of the dinosaur, biting his tongue as he worked to pull the dust cloth through the links of the chain keeping the top heavy robot from falling forward. He grunted as the cloth stuck in the links for the fifth time since he had started the horrid task of dusting. Alfred was mad at him, and so Damian was stuck cleaning the cave from top to bottom. 

Damian felt the butler was overreacting, it wasn’t as if he had  _ actually  _ put the itching powder in Drake’s suit. He had only  _ planned  _ on doing it. Father hadn’t thought it funny either. Richard would have at least snorted. Damian thought he would anyway. Todd had told him of a long prank war between him and Richard that lasted nearly a month when Todd was Robin. It had only ended after both the Batsuit and the Batmobile were pepto bismol pink. 

Damian sighed. He didn’t understand. He thought it would have been funny. Evidently, he couldn’t even  _ prank  _ correctly. He yanked on the rag again, to no avail. It was stuck. 

Damian pursed his lips and scowled down at the cloth. He looked around. Father had left for patrol hours ago, and wouldn’t be back for several more. Drake was in New York, and Alfred had gone to bed. Realizing there was no one to help him remove the infernal cloth from it’s prison, he turned back to it, planted his feet firmly next to the hooking mechanism. the chain attached to the robotic dino rattled slightly as he did. He redoubled his grip on the cloth. 

Damian threw all his weight back. The cloth unstuck with a horrible tearing sound. However, Damian had no time to rejoice in his victory over the now tarnished rag. Instead he found himself falling backwards. 

A horrible realization occurred as he discovered nothing but empty space beneath him, he had not considered how high he was. The fall to the ground couldn’t have-- in reality--taken much time at all. But it felt agonizingly slow. All his training seemed to fly out the window. He moved on instinct. He forgot to curl and protect his head from the fall. Instead he reached out blindly, back towards the ground beneath him. He flew past the teeth of the T-Rex and wondered if it were grinning at his misfortune. 

Damian reached back with his hand to catch himself. His palm struck first. Then all of his weight landed hard on his right arm, and  _ something  _ buckled. All the air was thrust from his lungs in a great breath. Damian lay on the ground, his arm bent beneath him, with his mouth gaping open in a silent scream. 

It was agony like he hadn’t felt in years. His lungs burned as he tried to gasp and suck in the air that had been ripped from him on impacts, but they didn’t seem to work. His mouth opened enclosed on air that he couldn’t breath. It seemed an eternity where he lay, just wondering if he would die. 

Until-- as if a flip had switched-- the oxygen seemed to rush in. His lungs were filled and he could breath, he could scream. And scream he did. 

The sound echoed around the cave and ricocheted off the stalagmites back at him as if the cavern had been filled with a thousand banshees. 

He ran out of air and sucked in another lung full only to let loose another cry. 

“Father!” He screamed it over and over, until it felt as if his throat would tear open from the force of it “Father!”

No answer came. Only the echo of his own call returned to him. After what seemed hours Damian’s screams turned to soft sobs. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breath, his chest and back ached something horrible, but his arm... His arm was blinding,  _ hot _ , horrid pain. It was like nothing he had ever felt. He had been stabbed and cut, but his pain was deeper. This pain was in his very foundation. 

He didn’t know if he should try and move, or if he even could. His breath came out in panicked gasps as he lay on the cave floor staring up at the horrible dinosaur's grin. He cursed the dinosaur in every tongue he knew. 

After several minutes of lying there, his lungs seemed to stop spasming, and he could breath-- not quite regularly but enough. Damian bit his lip trying to focus on anything but the pain. He needed to think. 

How pathetic was he, to lay here like an ordinary child, weeping on the floor? He was Robin, he was Batman’s heir, the Demon’s grandson. He was better than this. This childish-- a sob broke his concentration. He wanted his father so badly. 

He wanted not Batman, but his father-- the man under the mask the few ever saw. He wanted him so badly it hurt almost as bad as his wounds. 

Damian moved his fingers on his left hand experimentally. They wiggled. So he wasn’t paralyzed…  _ yet _ . He closed his eyes so he wouldn’t have to look at the sharp laughing face of the T-Rex and tried to wiggle his toes. They moved. 

He knew that he should wait, moving might hurt him more. But he was desperate. He  _ had  _ to get help. It could be hours before Father returned. 

Damian screwed his eyes closed as tight as he could and rolled. He rolled left and used his good arm to push himself up. 

A shriek tore from his throat. His vocal cords broke on the sound and his throat felt raw. Damian felt hot tears leak down his already salt crusted face. He knew he looked a mess. He had snot on his chin and tear stains coating and still gathering all over his cheeks and neck. He looked pitiful. 

Damian sat for a moment on the ground shaking. His head was spinning from just sitting up. His arm hung uselessly at his side. He refused to look at it. If he did… no. He wouldn’t look. He needed to get to the computer. That was the mission. Stand up. Walk. Sit on Chair. Call Father. 

He had a mission. He was Robin. He could do a mission. 

Standing was worse. Damian stumbled the first time and sat hard on his butt. His whole body seemed to rattle when he fell. 

Damian gritted his teeth and let out a sound that was more animal like than human. He moved to stand again. 

Black dots filled his vision but he ignored them. He just needed to walk. He knew the cave well enough that seeing wasn’t necessary. His feet moved unsteadily and each time his foot touched the floor it sent a wave of pain up his legs and back. He reached the computer chair. An accomplishment had never seemed so wonderful. 

Damian had to resist the urge to flop down into the seat, and instead lowered himself into it slowly. His whole body was shaking. He wondered if he was bleeding internally. The thought hadn’t occurred to him before. Panic rose in his chest and suddenly sitting didn’t seem so wonderful. He reached forward for the keyboard. He just needed to hit one button and the whole cave would be on alert. After that, he could rest. He could close his eyes and let the pain take him.

He tapped the red key that he’d never seen used. He could remember Richard telling him it was for emergencies only. That it was important not to mess around with it. Well, Damian thought, if this wasn’t an emergency he didn’t know what was. 

* * *

Bruce was ready to pull his hair out. Harvey Bullock was possibly his least favorite man on the force. Well that wasn’t quite true. He had a long list of officers he didn’t like. But Harvey was definitely on the top of his ‘you drive me to want to murder’ list. But Gordon was home sick and so he was stuck talking to Harvey about a drug smuggling case. 

He was disorganized and arrogant. Two things Bruce couldn’t stand. He was about to interrupt the man’s speech recounting his hard work breaking the case-- He had the wrong man in custody, Bruce was nearly 80 percent sure-- when his comm system overrode his do not disturb setting. 

Bruce felt his heart rate increase. There were few things that could do that. He turned from Harvey and pulled a small tablet from his belt. 

“Batman to League we have a code--” He blinked. The tablet screen showed not a Watchtower distress call, but a Batcave one. 

Bruce forgot how to breath. 

“Batman to cave!” He shouted, already moving. He leapt from the roof without thought. His grappling gun shot and he paid no mind to where it landed. He’s only thought was getting to the Batmobile. 

“Batman?” Harvey shouted after him. “What’s wrong?”

Bruce didn’t answer, he was already landing on the grimey Gotham streets bellow and running. 

“Father?” 

If Bruce had been panicked before it was nothing to what he felt now. Damian’s voice filled his ears, but it was all wrong. It was weak and wavering. It sounded nothing like his son at all. “Robin? What’s happened?”

Damian’s voice was so quiet. “Father, I--” 

Bruce skidded to a halt next to the car and yanked the door open. He was inside and moving before the door had even closed properly. Damian was crying. He was sobbing into the comm. 

“Fa-- father. I nee--” His voice broke. 

“Robin, are you hurt? Is someone in the cave with you?” His mind was racing. Villains had discovered the cave. Had found his identity. Joker had-- no. No. Not again. He pressed the gas harder. 

“No. I fell-- Can’t breath wel-- my arm is-- Father,  _ help _ .”

Bruce felt pressure building on the back of his eyes, and his heart squeezed painfully. Damian had never, in all his time Bruce had been blessed to know him, asked him for help.

“I’m on my way.” Bruce spoke quickly. “I’m on my way. It’s going to be okay. Just hold on for me.”

Damian only hiccupped and continued to cry.

“Where’s Alfred?” Bruce hoped he sounded calm, he felt far from it. “Damian, I’m going to be there in less than ten minutes, but I need to know is Alfred with you?”

He wondered if his father was laying broken down some chasm of the cave. Would he return to find a horrid battle and Alfred dead and a son dying?

“No. sleeping.” Damian’s voice was faint. “I’m so… Father?” 

Bruce’s heart broke. “I’m almost there. It’s going to be okay. I-- I promise.”

He was definitely crying now. Bruce reached for the to turn on his second comm channel. He hadn’t heard Damian this scared before. Not even on fear toxin. “I’m almost there. I’m-- I’m going to call Alfred. Okay? Just keep talking, kiddo. I need you to stay awake.”

“I… Fath…” Damian’s voice came in waves and trailed off slowly. 

Bruce growled and shouted at the car cursing it’s lack of speed. He was going well over 200 miles and hour, and it wasn’t enough. 

“Call manor.” He shouted.

“Damian you have to keep talking.” He tried to sound as soothing as he could, as the car called the house phone. “Damian can you hear me? I need you to keep talking to me, kiddo.” 

No answer came. 

“Damian!” Bruce shouted. But no small voice replied. Bruce swore colorfully at the steering wheel. 

“Good Heavens, Master Bruce is that yo--”

“Alfred! Cave! Now!” Bruce shouted, as he turned into the first tunnel leading into the elaborate network that led to the cave. “Damian!”

Alfred didn’t reply but the clatter of the phone falling to the ground was confirmation enough that the man had gone. 

“Damian?” Bruce called out again in desperate hope that the boy would reply. Silence was his only answer. 

* * *

Damian fell in and out of consciousness. He thought he could hear shouting. It sounded important, but the darkness always seemed stronger than his own desire to answer. 

Alfred was the first face that swam into focus. Damian groaned and tried to move, but hands held him and he felt too heavy to really try to move anyway. 

Next came the shadow of the cowl. Damian frowned. Father was shouting something, he-- he sounded scared. Damian didn’t want him to be scared. He should tell him something. Make him laugh, wasn’t that what Richard would do?

The darkness didn't seem to want to let him go.

When he next woke he found himself staring at the ceiling. He blinked. It looked familiar, but it wasn’t his. Damian turned his head and quickly realized that it had been a terrible plan. Pain shot through his whole body. He gasped.

Something, a large shadow, moved next to him. He gritted his teeth in pain. 

“Damian?” Father’s voice was low and whispered. It felt warm and urgent.

Damian blinked up at the man leaning over him. He was in Father’s bed he realized. That was Father’s ceiling. That was his shadow. Tears built in the corners of his eyes. Everything hurt. His body felt like one giant bruise. 

Father moved silently and carefully. Damian wondered how a man so large could be so nimble. He was out of the bed and around to Damian in seconds. “You’re okay. I’ve gotcha.” He murmured reaching out and brushing Damian’s bangs from his face. 

“Wha--t?” Damian stuttered over the word, his throat felt as if it was on fire.

“You fell off the dinosaur, kiddo.” Father snatched a glass with a gaudy, neon silicone straw off the bedside table and held it to Damian’s lips. 

He sucked it down greedily. 

“You broke your arm in three places, and have some really nasty bruises on your back and ribs.” Bruce set the glass down with a light thud. “It’s going to really suck for a couple of weeks, but you’re going to be okay.”

Damian blinked up at his Father. He looked so tired. His eyes had dark bags under them and there seemed to be lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

“I’m sorry.” Damian whispered, hoarsely. 

Father frowned. “Why?”

“For-- for causing trouble.” Damian twisted the bedding in his good hand. 

“You… Damian you didn’t cause trouble. You  _ fell _ . It was an accident. You have nothing to apologize for. It’s not your fault.” Father was looking at him oddly. He wasn’t angry, and he wasn’t lying. 

But somehow Damian didn’t understand. “I… I didn’t think it through.”

Father regarded him thoughtfully for a long moment. “Did I ever tell you about the time Dick and I fell off the roof?”

Damian started to shake his head, but thought better of it. “No.”

“Well, when Dick was thirteen we got into an argument. He was mad at me for getting upset over something stupid, so he went out to the roof.” He leaned back on his heels as he spoke. 

Damian frowned, he hadn’t even realized Father had been kneeling. It must have been uncomfortable.

“So I went out after a few hours to talk to him, and we got to talking-- laughing. Well I went to stand up, just as he reached over to grab my arm. Dick slipped a little and I panicked and pulled him back from the edge, which made me step on one of the gutters and it broke.”

Damian found his heart pounding, even though he knew both Father and Richard to be alive and well. 

“So Dick, of course, tried to grab me. We both ended up falling.” Bruce paused and looked at him. “Was that Dick’s fault?”

Damian, opened his mouth to protest but snapped it shut again when he realized what his father was trying to say. 

“Of course not.” He continued, despite Damian’s silence. “It was an accident. Same as this, kiddo.” 

“Were.. were you injured?” Damian wasn’t sure if he wanted the answer.

“I grabbed a window sill and dislocated my shoulder catching us. Dick ...wasn’t injured but he was...  _ upset  _ by it.” Father said slowly.

Damian felt a silent tear fall. He was glad Richard wasn’t in town. Damian knew all too well that his brother carried a particular fear of falling. How would Richard have felt if Damian had died in the same way as his family all those years ago. 

Father’s eyes pinched together and he leaned forward so that his chin rested on the mattress next to Damian’s. “You’re safe, it’s okay.”

Damian gave a large load sniff. 

“You let it out, kiddo. I’m not going anywhere.”

Damian blinked. He hadn’t ever been told that before… No one other than Richard had told him he could cry. It was this that did it. Damian’s lips quivered and he turned his head slowly so that his forehead pressed against his father’s. He let the tears fall freely.

Father started humming softly. Damian closed his eyes and let the deep rumbling tune wash over him. A rough hand brushed his hair back softly in a soothing pattern. They stayed like that for what felt like hours. Father knelt next to him, humming lightly as Damian slowly drifted back to sleep. 

Just as Damian was on the precipice of slumber, he felt the bed creak beside him. When had father moved, he thought. But the question died in his mind for a very large and gentle hand cradled his uninjured one. 


	2. Meeting at the Bottom

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo I thought I needed it done yesterday, but you gave me a whole 24 hours to round out all my thoughts... so here is part two! Hope you have the happiest of day's, darling!
> 
> As always I love to hear from you all!

Close your eyes

Do not look at my wounds and see

Turn around

Don’t reach for me and feel

\--I never wanted you to know this pain

* * *

Tim pulled his bike shapely to a stop on the parking pad next to the Batmobile. He yanked his helmet off and looked around frowning. The Cave was rarely quiet on a Monday evening. Bruce tended to work down here trying to catch up after a weekend of social responsibilities, or spending time with him or Damian. 

Tim was surprised to find the Batcomputer’s screen saver going and the lights, save for the dim lamps that were always left on, off. It was odd. 

Tim slipped into the locker room and found both of Bruce’s suits hanging up pressed and ready for patrol, as well as Damian’s. This was highly unusual. Sure they always had a clean suit ready, but having two meant neither had been out for several days. 

Tim bit his lip and quickly yanked a hoodie over his head. The manor was equally quiet. Tim, deciding the kitchen was the best place to find answers, turned right after slipping out of the clock. 

He could hear the faucet running and relief flooded him. Alfred was standing with his back to the kitchen door, washing a large saucepan. 

“Master Tim, it’s lovely to have you home. There is a pot of tea under the cozy, should you want a cup.” Alfred didn’t so much as turn. 

Tim smiled. Alfred always seemed to have eyes in the back of his head. “It’s a bit quiet, everything okay?”

Alfred turned off the faucet and turned to face Tim, wiping his hands on a dish towel. “It’s been a tough weekend. Master Damian broke his arm Thursday night.”

Tim paused, his hand still hovering holding the tea cozy above the pot. “Is-- Is he okay?”

Alfred gave a small smile. “Yes. He’ll be alright. It was a nasty break but it was set with no complications and his other injuries are healing nicely.”

Tim slowly poured the tea into a cup, watching carefully as the liquid pooled up towards the lip. “What happened?” 

Tim ran through all the Gotham news he had read in his head, trying to understand what Batman and Robin could have done for this to happen. There had been no breakouts or major cases, nothing that he could remember that would constitute a broken arm. 

He  _ did  _ know there had been a false alarm for Watchtower last week, but Superman had sent out an all clear message within five minutes. So this… this couldn’t be from that. 

“Master Damian had a slight accident while cleaning the cave.” Alfred set the sugar bowl in front of him, and Tim reached out and plucked a cube from the bowl. 

Tim stirred the sugar in not really paying attention to the dissolving white grains. Damian had had an accident cleaning… it didn’t feel right. But Tim knew Alfred wouldn’t lie to him. But he also knew it wasn’t the full story. 

Then it hit him. Damian had been grounded for the stupid itching powder. Guilt flooded him. He wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as if he had tattled on Damian, Alfred had found the powder while putting away Damian’s socks. He hadn’t even been very upset over the whole thing. He had… He had laughed when Alfred said Damian had to clean the whole cave top to bottom… and now he was hurt.

“Is Bruce home?”

“Yes. I believe they are in the living room.” Alfred turned and pulling out a tray of snacks from the cupboard. 

Tim frowned. They weren’t allowed in that cupboard… it had all the sweets. Damian must have been more injured then Alfred let on. “I can take that. If you want?”

Alfred stilled. “That would be very helpful. Thank you.” Alfred patted Tim on the elbow twice before turning back to the range to check on whatever he was cooking for dinner. 

Tim nodded and put his tea cup on the tray and slipped back into the hall. Tim moved deeper into the house and to the back rooms of the property. The family room was in the back east corner, the farthest from the driveway. The windows looked onto the woods and it was easily one of the more cozy nooks in the manor. 

Tim toed the door open and poked his head inside when he reached it. The room was lit only by the glow of the tv screen. Animals flashed across it and a low soothing voice spoke describing different bird calls in the amazon. 

Tim felt his chest patter in an odd rhythm when he looked inside. The sofa was a pile of blankets and pillows. Bruce was leaning against an arm of the sofa with one arm draped over the back. Damian was leaning against Bruce’s side with his eyes closed. Tim’s eyes trailed down Damian’s face and took in the large cast that rested on top a stack of pillows. The cast was blue and wrapped up past his elbow, halfway to his shoulder. Tim bit his lip. 

He pushed the door open further, and Bruce’s head turned at the sound. His face split into a large grin and he-- careful not to move Damian-- turned to face Tim. 

“I didn’t know you were coming home today.” 

“Yeah, well Conner had a thing come up. Alfred sent this.” Tim hurried forward into the room quickly setting the tray on the coffee table. He snatched his tea cup and sank into the armchair, nearest Bruce. 

“Is Conner, alright?” Bruce tilted his head watching Tim, more carefully then he cared for.

“Yeah. It was just something he couldn’t miss. He sleeping?” Tim gestured to Damian with his cup. 

“No.” Damian spoke with his eyes still closed. 

Tim grinned. “Alf said you got hurt cleaning? What happened? Slip mopping?” 

“Dusting.” Damian replied coolly.

Tim blinked, was he serious? 

A buzzing filled the room and Bruce sighed. He reached forward for his phone vibrating on the oak coffee table. 

“Sorry. It’s Cass. I’ll be back in a bit. You need anything while I’m up Damian?”

“No. I’m fine.” Damian sat up slightly freeing Bruce from the pile of blankets and pillows. 

Bruce smiled and ran his hand through Damian’s hair. He squeezed Tim's shoulder as he passed him. Tim listened to his steps faid down the hallway. 

“That looks painful.” Tim said after a minute were nothing but the sounds of bird calls and the narrator’s voice filled the room. 

“It was.” Damian glanced at him. “Father’s been rather persistent that I take pain killers. It’s not necessary, but… I may have-- It was...scary.” 

Tim stilled. Damian didn’t normally talk about feelings with him. Sure they talked but it was always ’I’m fine, pass the sugar, do you need me to sharpen the batarang for you’s. It was light and easy. This was nether. 

“Were you really dusting?” Tim asked slowly. 

“Yes.”

“Because of the powder?” Tim felt sick. 

“Yes. I-- Drake.” Damian shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot and I… I wanted to apologize.”

Tim blanched. “Damian I’m not mad about it honestly. It’s fine.  _ I’m  _ sorry you got hurt.”

“No you-- I don’t mean the itching powder…” Damian shifted to look at him fully. The light of the TV reflected on his face in flashes of bright colors. “I  _ am  _ sorry about the powder too.. I thought. Todd said that pranking was… It doesn’t matter. I see it was wrong to put it in your suit but that--”

“Jason told you to put it in my suit?” Tim interrupted, flummoxed. 

“No. No. He said that he and Richard enjoyed pranks when he was Robin… and I-- I thought you would--”

Tim set his tea cup on the table and leaned forward. He didn’t understand… Damian had been trying to  _ play  _ with him? “You were doing it… to start a prank war?”

Damian scowled “Yes. But that’s not the point. I’m trying to say that I’m sorry about pushing you!”

Tim blinked. It was as if he had been frozen and his mind was stuck in place. His mind was still stuck on the fact Damian had wanted to play a game, to prank each other, not to be rude or unkind, but for fun. The other half of his mind was sorting through a list of shoves and pushes that merited an apology. 

Damian flushed bright red and his eyes dropped to his hands. “I was… It was wrong and I thought… I thought I  _ had  _ too.” The words were near a whisper. 

Tim’s mind was thrown into overdrive, but none of it made sense. Pushing him. Damian  _ pushing  _ him. He didn’t… what did he mean?

“Grandfather said I had to-- I… I didn’t understand and it was.” Damian’s voice wavered and Tim realized he was crying. 

He was frozen. Tim didn’t know what to do. 

“I didn’t know how scary it was.” Damian’s voice broke. “I’m-- I understand why you don’t like me. And I just wanted to say I… I never knew how bad--” 

Tim was moving before he knew what he was doing. He sank into Bruce’s abandoned seat and found his hands fluttering unsure where to land. 

“It’s okay.” Tim patted Damian’s left arm lightly. “I promise I’m not mad. It’s fine--”

“No!” Damian pulled away from him. “It was horrible. I couldn’t breath and move and I was-- It was like I was dying, and you…  _ You  _ fell further then that!” Damian was looking at him desperately as if begging Tim to understand, to be  _ angry  _ with him. 

“Damian, what are you talking about?” Tim shook his head. 

“The Dinosaur.” Damian reached up with his good hand and pulled his hair slightly. He looked near mad in the flickering light of bright colors from tropical birds on the screen. 

Understanding hit Tim fully and all at once. He was struck with it, in unimaginable force. 

Tim was falling. 

He was tumbling down and never hitting the ground. It was like air was rushing past him. He was screaming. He was screaming over and over for Bruce, for Dick. It was like he was dying. He lay on the ground gasping for breath. 

“Drake?” 

Tim blinked. 

He was on the sofa. Damian had tears staining his flushed cheeks.  _ Damian  _ had the broken bones and bruises.  _ Damian  _ had fallen and been hurt. 

“You fell from the Dinosaur?” He whispered. It was a truth Tim didn’t want to hear, but he needed the confirmation. 

Damian nodded rather slowly. “It-- It was horrible.”

Tim was shaking. He could remember crawling on the ground screaming in pain. He could remember wondering who would find him first, Dick or Bruce. He could remember the way his bones felt like liquid in his skin. He could remember it all so clearly. 

“You fell from the…” 

Damian nodded. 

Tim felt dizzy and faint. In his mind, this time, it wasn’t him he saw falling. He could picture it perfectly. The way Damian would have hit the ground, the way he would have laid there breathless, and yet still screaming. He could hear him crying to an empty cave. Alone and dying. 

Tim reached forward and as gently as he could. He pulled Damian to his chest. 

The boy went rigged. He was stiff as a board. Tim didn’t let go. He just sat there holding him. “I’m so sorry. I know that was scary.”

Damian seemed to melt. Tim felt his sweatshirt growing wet. Damian was muttering into his chest. The sounds of the rainforest from the documentary mixed oddly with his words. It was like being hit every time Tim heard it. 

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

* * *

Tim slowly made his way to his room, Bruce had returned, taken one look at the weeping Damian and dazed Tim and taken over. Tim would forever be haunted by Bruce’s unasked question, as Tim walked away. His eyes had been practically screaming it: are you okay?

Tim had lied. Because telling the truth would have helped no one. Bruce would have been torn. He couldn’t fix Damian  _ and  _ Tim, and it would have meant three Waynes were broken rather than two. So he nodded and left. 

Tim flopped on his bed and pressed his face into his pillow. His mind, however, didn't want to stop working, _thinking_. It was as if the conversation was playing over and over in loop.  
Damian had apologized for attacking him before, and Tim had accepted it. Well he perhaps had more compartmentalized it rather than accepted it. He had spent so long feeling angry and hurt… it… it had consumed him. 

But this was different. The times Damian had apologized to him had been proper and filled with speeches of honor and working to regain his trust-- however long it took to do. Damian had worked to do it too. 

He had kept his word, over and over. He worked hard to show Tim that he was an ally and then friend. Well…  _ friend  _ didn’t really cover it. They weren’t friends, in the way that Tim would way he was friends with Conner or even Dick. They were teammates sure, they laughed at Bruce together. They ate together. They helped cover for each other when one of them broke a decoration. Tim picked Damian up from school and drove him to the mall. 

They were  _ family _ . 

Tim felt something bubble in his gut that was perhaps not unfamiliar but had gone unrecognized: anger. Not at Damian but at Ra’s Al Ghul and even Talia. Tim had spent a long time blaming Damian for everything that happened. 

But had Tim not done things for people who he wanted to love him that were terrible too? Tim had stolen, and lied and well he had hurt people himself plenty. 

Damian was no different. 

He had been  _ ten _ . Tim turned his head so that it was deeper in his pillow. 

He had done a lot to try and impress his mom and dad at ten, and they hadn’t been evil masterminds plotting to take over the world. 

Damian wasn’t at fault for being brainwashed by Ra’s. Tim was older and had fallen for the man’s tricks and traps more times then he could count. How could he have ever held a ten year old accountable for that? 

Tim’s heart sank. 

He rolled over so that he could see his bookshelf. On the second to the top shelf was a framed photo of Dick and him. It had been taken just under a year before Damian came into their lives. How many times had Tim looked at the photo and wished he could go back, back to before? 

His stomach twisted. How could he have ever wished that on Damian, to be back with Ra’s? He dug his hand in his pocket blindly and pulled out his phone. The number was second nature. He didn’t even have to look. 

“Hey Tim. What’s up?” Dick’s voice was tired. He always sounded tired. Tim felt another pang of regret. 

“I just-- Have you been home or talked to B lately?” Tim asked carefully. He didn’t want to let the cat out of the bag, if Bruce hadn’t talked to Dick yet.

Dick sighed. “Yeah. I talked to them yesterday. You doing okay?”

Tim blinked. It amazed him how Dick could do that, how he could see through him so easily. “No.” 

“I’m sure it sucked to hear about. I know I get-- I don’t like to think about it much either.” Dick’s voice was breathy and clipped. 

“When… when it happened I was so mad.” Tim felt pressure building behind his eyes. He looked up at his ceiling light to keep the tears at bay. 

“You had and have a right to be mad. You were hurt.” Dick said carefully.

“Yeah… but--” Tim closed his eyes. The light wasn’t helping. It felt like tongue and mind couldn’t connect. The words didn’t seem to fall into place. “I wasn’t mad at the right person.”

Dick was quiet for a long time. “Tim, I know I messed up a lot when Bruce was gone. If you-- I understand that you… It’s okay to be mad at me--”

“No. Dick I’m not calling to rehash that.” Tim sat up and kicked off his shoes. They hit the wall and fell to the ground in a series of satisfying thuds. “I’m calling to say, you were right.”

Dick was silent on the phone and Tim tried not to think too much about what that might mean. “I mean-- I was too, but  _ you  _ were right about Damian. It was-- He was ten and he didn’t know.”

Tim stood up and started to pace. His socks sank into the carpet as he cut a trail on the floor. “He was ten and he didn’t understand that the way he’d been raised was wrong. How could he? He didn’t understand that he hurt me the way he did either. Sure we-- not got over it-- but got past it, but he never  _ understood  _ it.”

Tim kept talking, he didn’t know how to stop. “He-- Dick, I’ve never seen him look at me like that before. You should have seen it. The way he--” Tim swore into the phone. “It was  _ horrifying _ . Laying on the ground. All you can think about is how much it hurts and how someone is going to have to find you laying there dead. Dick, I  _ never  _ wanted him to understand that.”

Dick sucked in a breath, so small it was barely a sound over the line. Tim swore. He hadn’t wanted to make Dick upset, that wasn’t the point. 

“Dick, what I’m trying to say is…” Tim bit his lip. “He didn’t know better and I shouldn’t have made you pick between us like that.” Tim sank down on his bed in a huff. 

Dick’s breathing was the only sound Tim could hear. He wondered if he’d pushed Dick too far. 

It would have been exhausting to hear about Damian’s accident. Dick loved deep and felt other’s pain fully, as if it were his own. It was something Tim both loved and hated about his brother. 

“Tim, It means a lot to hear you say that.” Dick spoke slowly, each word measured and heavy. “I-- I didn’t… I wasn’t perfect. Not then not now. So…” He went quiet.

Tim waited. He was patient. Dick deserved his patience. 

“We all played a part in it. So I don’t think… I don’t think anyone was--” Dick sighed. 

“We all messed up, yeah.” Tim finished for him. “But I’m still sorry for my part in it.”

Dick laughed. It was without humor and dark. Tim understood it for what it was. It was all he could do. 

“Dick?” Tim asked nervously, wondering just how far Dick could bend, and if he had gone as far as he should dare.

“Yeah?” 

“I’ve never seen him look so small.” 

“I know. You always look small to me too.”


End file.
